


Surviving the Office Holiday Party

by fickery



Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Movieverse - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickery/pseuds/fickery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holiday socializing with colleagues is rife with pitfalls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving the Office Holiday Party

Maria knew she shouldn’t have come. She knew that Stark’s primary form of entertainment, besides inventing things, involved trying to provoke people and get reactions out of them. All the better if they were stoic types to begin with and he had to work for it a little. An entire room full of people with disparate-slash-potentially explosive personalities that he could mix and match and do social experiments on? Had to be his idea of a diverting hour or two.

She wasn’t sure why she _had_ come. She was curious to see the inside of the high-rise that now served as at least a part-time home to most of the Avengers, true. She was curious to see Stark’s famous AI, Jarvis, in action. And she was admittedly curious to meet Pepper Potts, who not only worked for Stark voluntarily but also dated him, also apparently voluntarily. And by all accounts, was one of the only people breathing who could keep him in line…at least when she was in the room with him.

Stark surprised her by meeting her at the elevator himself. “Agent Hill. Actually, it’s Maria, isn’t it? I assume I can call you Maria, since this is a social occasion and you are a guest in my home. And you, of course, must call me Tony. I am _delighted_ you’re here.”

He finally stepped out of the way so she could get off the elevator. Wordlessly she handed him the bottle she was carrying.

“Oh, _Maria_! You shouldn’t have. Thank you so much for the…”—he checked the label—“…sparkling cider. How amusing. Pepper will love this. Love your outfit, by the way,” he said, indicating her attire with an up-and-down motion of his hand. “Very festive.”

She’d deliberately chosen an outfit as close to her duty uniform as possible. Her taste in clothes ran to the simple and unadorned, anyway. She wasn’t much of a ruffles-and-flounces kind of girl.

Tonight she was wearing a simple black v-necked sweater, slim black pants and high-heeled boots. Black. Hey, the sweater had crystal beading around the neckline. That was festive enough for the likes of Stark.

She was rescued by a tall strawberry blonde who suddenly appeared at Stark’s elbow. “Tony, it’s customary, when you invite people to a party, to actually let them enter the room when they arrive.” She extended a hand. “I’m Pepper. You must be…”

“Pepper, this is Maria von Trapp. Hill. I’m sorry. Maria Hill. She works with Fury and Coulson at S.H.I.E.L.D., and tolerates me with very poor grace, I must say.”

“I can’t _imagine_ why,” Pepper said. “Hi, Maria,” she said warmly. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad you could come.” She had a nice businesslike handshake: firm but not aggressive.

Stark passed the bottle off to her.

“Ooh, good idea,” she said, turning the bottle to look at its label. “I may substitute this for champagne towards the end of the evening. Don’t want anyone driving drunk. Or flying, or teleporting, or whatever.” Putting her hand lightly on Maria’s back, she steered her into the room.

“Hot and cold running hors d’oeuvres on the buffet tables. Drinks over there,” she said, pointing at the bar. “It’s self-serve for the most part, but Tony will no doubt play bartender on and off throughout the evening. Let me start you off with something, though. What would you like?”

Maria had already scanned the room and determined that everyone was holding a glass of some kind. “Whatever you have open,” she said.

Pepper smiled at her. “We have a full bar, and _everything_ is open. What would you like?”

“White wine, if you have it.” Not that she couldn’t hold her liquor, but she felt the need to be cautious in a social setting with this particular group of people, and didn’t want to start feeling too comfortable. White wine wasn’t her favorite, especially at this time of year, so she wouldn’t be tempted to overindulge.

“Of course we do. Coming right up.” As she poured the wine, Pepper asked, “No introductions needed, am I correct? You already know everyone in this room except me.”

“I’ve met them all before, yes.” Pepper darted a quick, curious glance her way at the correction, but she didn’t comment, just handed her the glass of wine.

“Great! Well, then, go mingle.”

Maria told herself it wasn’t cowardice that prompted her to join Fury and Coulson first, standing off to one side speaking quietly to each other. If she knew Fury, he’d be the first to take his leave, assuming—probably correctly—that his presence was inhibiting the festivities to some extent, and she wanted to say hello while she had the chance.

“Gentlemen.”

They both turned to look at her. “Lieutenant,” Fury greeted her. He’d dressed much like her, in a black turtleneck sweater and black slacks, and was drinking what appeared to be scotch, neat.

“You two realize this is a party, right?” Coulson asked. He was in his usual suit and tie (she tried to think of the last time she’d seen him in something other than a suit and tie, and couldn’t) and holding a beer.    

Fury’s mouth twitched. “Not all of us can forgo formality without also sacrificing discipline, Coulson.”

“True. It’s a gift,” Coulson agreed amiably.

As the two of them continued to banter, Maria looked around. The others were scattered throughout the room in small groups:  Pepper had just walked over to join Stark, gesturing expansively at Dr. Banner; Romanoff and Barton were talking with Dr. Selvig. Over towards the wall of windows, Rogers was throwing back a glass of eggnog while Thor was eyeing his dubiously. Darcy Lewis appeared to be teasing him about it while Dr. Foster laughed at both of them.

A lot of doctorates in this room. Not that she felt intimidated; she was used to working around brilliant people. It just made for an awfully quiet, nerdy party, that was all.

 

 

***-*-*-***

 

 

An hour later, she was forced to reassess. Aided by alcohol, the party was ramping up and getting noisier. Instead of excusing himself and taking off early, Fury’s strategy had been to go hang out with Darcy, the one person in the room who would never work for him and had no idea who he really was. She seemed to have taken it upon herself to teach the uninitiated some popular college drinking games. Clint and Steve appeared to be matching her shot for shot.

Thor, while doubtless nowhere near his limit, had gotten louder, as well as more cheerful and backslap-y. Banner and Foster were over at the bar having a very animated discussion, sketching something on cocktail napkins that probably no one else in the room except Stark and Selvig could understand. (Maria prayed the other two wouldn’t join them, or the four of them would end up creating something that blew up a chunk of the planet, or attracted more hostile aliens, or at least generated a huge mess that she would be tasked with helping to clean up.) Someone had replaced the soft holiday music with louder dance music. (She suspected Darcy of that one as well.)

She and Natasha were trading niceties when Stark came up behind both of them, throwing his arms around their shoulders and squeezing them into an involuntary group hug.

“Enjoying yourselves, ladies? Need more drinks? No? Sure? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been nursing that same glass of wine ever since you got here, Agent Hill. You’ll want to be well-lubricated when we play Spin the Bottle later.”

Maria started to respond, but caught Natasha’s eye. The other woman gave her the faintest negative shake of her head, silently warning her not to engage. Maria closed her mouth. 

After a couple more vain attempts to tease a reaction out of her, Stark finally released them and bounced off to annoy someone else. Maria took a deep, centering breath and noticed Natasha suppressing a smile. “You worked for him for a while, as part of your undercover assignment, right?”

“Well, in reality I ended up working for Pepper. But I had a lot of…exposure to him, yes.”

“How did you…?” … _tolerate him_ didn’t seem the most diplomatic wording, considering he was their host, but she couldn’t think of another way to phrase the question.

Natasha wasn’t bothering to hide the smile any longer. “It was an assignment, and I was only there for a short time. I don’t have to like the people I’m working for. Besides,” she said, taking a sip of her drink, “ _she_ buffers him. A lot. Like she did when you first came in.”

“Okay, how does _she_ deal with him? And more importantly, why?” Maria asked, glancing over at Stark, who was now in a heated discussion with Doctors Foster and Banner.

“I suspect she gets to see a side of him the rest of us rarely do,” the redhead said calmly. “For better or worse, she _gets_ him. And she’s a natural at managing him; she makes it look easy. The way you do with Fury.”

“What?” Maria asked, pulling her focus back to the other woman. “That’s not what I…”

“Isn’t it?” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You buffer, you schedule, you filter out noise and handle details so he can concentrate on big-picture issues, you interpret him for other people… Looks like the same basic skill set to me.” She chuckled at the look of consternation on Maria’s face. “Obviously you have the rank, she has better pay and perks—assuming one considers sleeping with her boss a perk—but you have a lot in common. You both make life easier for brilliant but very difficult men. It’s not all either of you do, or even the most important thing. But it’s a useful ability.” She shrugged. “To his credit, at least Tony _knows_ how well Pepper manages his life; that’s why he promoted her. I’m not sure Fury understands yet how much he depends on you.”

 

 

***-*-*-***

 

 

A bit later, the music was cranked a little louder, and Coulson allowed himself to be dragged by Pepper to a small unoccupied area of the room to dance. Barton followed suit, sweeping Natasha into a ballroom stance. Darcy’s attempt to coax Fury into joining them seemed to signal to him that he needed to call it quits for the night, and he slipped out with a nod to Maria. Darcy turned her attention to Dr. Selvig, who didn’t require a lot of convincing.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before someone tried to involve her, and not feeling up to debuting her boogie moves to this crowd, Maria escaped to the kitchen—and opened the swinging door to find the one person she’d managed to avoid all evening, leaning against the counter, drinking a beer.

“Oh. Hi.” Steve looked surprised to see her too. “I was just…”

“Hiding out?” she suggested.

“I’m not the greatest dancer in the world,” he confessed. “Especially not to this music.” That got a small smile from her in return. “What are you doing here?”

“I…came to get more dip,” she temporized. “It was running low.”

“Looked fine when I checked a couple of minutes ago.” He shook his head. “Should’ve gone with crackers. Those are _actually_ running low.”

She couldn’t hold back a slightly bigger smile this time. “Damn it.” She leaned against the opposite counter. “Fine. I’m not much of a dancer either.”

His gaze was a shade too understanding for her liking. Kind of the way Natasha had smirked at her drink after Stark pointed out how long she’d been working on it. “Really? Or are you just afraid of looking like a fool in front of people you work with?”

She was getting the distinct feeling that despite her best efforts, the Avengers were getting to know her a lot better than she was comfortable with. Before she could answer, he reached behind him and pulled out another beer, twisting the cap off and holding it out to her. “I don’t know much about wine, but that one _can’t_ be good anymore. At least if people see you with a different drink, they’ll stop pestering you about it.”

She considered his outstretched hand for a moment, then set her wine down—finally—and took the proffered bottle. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

A lot of people mistook him for simple, because he was an anachronism and often quiet and sometimes needed things explained to him. The truth was, he was anything but.

“Nope,” he said before taking a long swallow of his own beer. “Like how you’ve been avoiding me tonight.”

 _Shit._ “I haven’t,” she protested. “I just haven’t gotten around to talking to everyone yet.” At his raised eyebrows, she tried to shore up her statement. “I’ve hardly spent any time talking with Dr. Foster or Darcy Lewis, either.”

“Who you know less well than anyone else here,” he pointed out.

“I just met Pepper tonight.” She was evading, and he knew it, and he knew _she_ knew.

“Do we have a problem? You and I? Something we need to talk about?” His blue eyes were fixed on hers. His blue, blue eyes.

 _No, Captain._ I _have a problem. There’s only room at S.H.I.E.L.D. for_ one _agent to have an embarrassing crush on you, and Phil Coulson’s already got it covered._

A few times, when she’d looked at him only to find him already looking her, she’d wondered. And then dismissed the thought. _Of course he watches you. He watches_ everybody _. It’s not personal. It’s just how he tries to figure everyone out, so he can assimilate._

“What? No, of course not.” Desperately trying to steer the conversation to something more neutral, she asked, “So, how was Christmas for you? Your first twenty-first century one, I mean.”

 _I know what you’re doing_ , his expression said. But he allowed himself to be redirected. “It’s been okay. It helps that a lot of things are still familiar. The decorations are jazzier, but all the lights are pretty. And of course a lot of the traditional music is still around.”

“Seen any holiday movies?” she said, finally taking a drink of her beer.

“Well, apparently there are about a thousand different adaptations of _A Christmas Carol_ now. I’ve seen three or four of them. And I liked _It’s a Wonderful Life_.”

“You should see _A Christmas Story_ ,” she advised. “It’s really funny, and it’s set in your era.” He smiled and looked down. “Sorry,” she said ruefully. “You probably get pop culture recommendations from everyone.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind the recommendations, I just had to accept pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to catch up with the last sixty or seventy years in a few months. If I hear enough people quote the same book or movie or television show, I look it up and it gets added to my list.”

She smiled too. “That seems like a realistic approach.”

There was a long moment of silence. She thought he would break it by asking about her holidays, but instead: “You look nice tonight,” he said abruptly.

She looked down at her very low-key outfit. Other than her hair being in its new sleek bob instead of pulled back, and a pair of crystal stud earrings that matched the ones on her sweater, she didn’t look much different than every other time he’d seen her.

“I just mean, it’s nice to see you out of your uniform. Out _of_ uniform. Wearing something other than your uniform, I mean,” he stumbled a little.

“I knew what you meant. Thank you,” she added belatedly. Strange—now _he_ was the one acting flustered. Why on earth…?

Wait. Was it possible she _hadn’t_ imagined all those times she thought he’d been looking at her?

“I guess it’s good for…all of us to see each other out of the workpl…” she started, only to be interrupted.

“Nerd alert. Wallflowers huddled up in the kitchen,” Stark announced as he came through the door, a blast of music and laughter following him in. He passed between them to reach into one of the two Sub-Zero side-by-sides and withdrew a six-pack of what looked like some kind of microbrew. “Oh my, on your _second_ drink already, Maria? Don’t let young Captain Rogers here lead you astray. He can be a terrible influence, you know.” He headed for the door again, gesturing with his head towards the other room.

“Come join the party, comrades. Or… _oh_. Did you two want to be _alone_?” He put the beer down on the counter and arched an eyebrow at them.

“We were just getting more dip,” Maria explained.

“…more crackers,” Steve echoed, a beat behind her.

“ _Fascinating_ ,” Stark remarked, looking back and forth between them. “Well, lucky for you, I anticipated possible clandestine rendezvous in the kitchen during this party. You’re all set, champ.” He looked up at the ceiling. Maria and Steve looked up too. “You _had_ mistletoe back then, right? You know how it works? Don’t need instructions?”

“Thank you, that’s really not nec…” Maria started.

“Oh, come on now. What’s a friendly little kiss under the mistletoe at a party? It’s no big deal. Unless, for some reason, it _is_.” He waggled his eyebrows at them.

 _Shut_ up _, you jackass,_ she thought.

“He’s never going to stop, you know,” Steve said to her.

“I know,” she said, resigned. Stark was like a child. A really, really annoying child.

They stepped forward at the same time and exchanged the politest, briefest kiss in recorded history. Their lips barely brushed, but she pulled back quickly, as if she’d gotten an electric shock. She pressed her hand against the leg of her jeans to stop it from reaching up to touch her mouth, and clenched her jaw to keep from licking her lips, tasting him again.

“Oh, come ooooonnnn, that’s not a real kiss,” Stark complained. “Kiss her like you mean it. I can get everyone else in here to cheer you on if you need the extra motivation. KISS. HER. KISS. HER. KISS. HER,” he started chanting, shaking the beer in time with his words.

Good God. He really was going to make a big scene if they didn’t…

Steve moved forward swiftly, taking her in his arms and bending her over backwards in a dramatic dip. “Shhh,” he breathed. “He wants a show, we’ll give it to him so he stops.”

Steve’s considerable shoulders were completely blocking Tony from her view…and vice versa. He tilted his head to one side, and reflexively she tilted hers in the opposite direction, but he didn’t kiss her. She realized it was the old Hollywood camera fake that actors used, and remembered that he’d had quite a bit of experience making patriotic promotional films during the war.

Those blue, blue eyes were only inches from hers now—they’d never been this close to each other before—and his lips hovered just above hers, their breath mingling. She could smell the yeasty, hoppy scent of the beer he’d been drinking. It wasn’t unpleasant.

She was never sure, later, which of them had closed that infinitesimal distance, but then his mouth was on hers, and it was warm and soft and sweet, and she was pressed against that solid wall of chest, and it was a good thing he was so strong and was holding her so securely because suddenly she doubted her legs were capable of supporting her. Her hands clutched his shoulders, the short nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.

Neither of them heard Tony’s chuckle as he picked up his beer and left the room.

When Steve let her back up, they looked around, realizing he was gone. Their bodies were still plastered together; Steve’s arms were still around her. He moved to kiss her again, but she stopped him, her hand against his chest.

“Wait. There are cameras in here, right? The whole place is wired.”

“Not everywhere,” Steve said, giving his head a little shake as if to clear it. “No bathrooms. Bedrooms. Pantry, after Tony teased Pepper one too many times about late-night snacking.”

They both looked over at the door set into the far wall. Pantry was definitely closest.

“Lock the door,” Maria said breathlessly as Steve backed her into a wall of shelves packed with nonperishable food items, just this once ignoring the inner voice admonishing her _This is SO inappropriate, Lieutenant_.

“It’s a pantry,” he said between kisses. “It doesn’t have a lock.”

She pushed on his chest again. “You know Tony’s either going to come back or he’s going to send someone else in here hoping to catch us.”

Steve thought about it for a second. “Jarvis.”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?” the AI responded.

This _really_ wasn’t the way she’d thought she’d see a demonstration of Jarvis’s abilities. 

“Can you please warn us—quietly—if someone is about to enter the kitchen?”

“Of course, sir.”

“And you’re not audio- or videotaping this in way, correct?”

“Of course not, sir.” The AI sounded offended.

“Just checking. That’ll be all, Jarvis.”

“Very good, sir.”

 

 

***-*-*-***

 

 

She wasn’t sure anyone was fooled when they emerged with crackers and dip to replenish the buffet table, even after she’d hastily reapplied her lip color and smoothed her hair. She left the party not long after, thanking Pepper and silently daring Tony to say anything. He smirked at her.

The next day, Steve came over to her place to watch _A Christmas Story_. They didn’t make it much past the twenty minute mark.  

He was finally able to cross it off his list about ten days later, after their fourth attempt to watch. By then he knew how she took her coffee in the morning, how to find his way to the bathroom from her bed in the dark, and exactly how to make her lose her famous cool using nothing but his hands and mouth.

She supposed it was strange how quickly they’d gotten to this point, how oddly comfortable she’d become with him in such a short time. She wondered if they were going too fast, or if _he_ thought they were going too fast. He didn’t seem worried about it, though.

 

 

***-*-*-***

 

 

A couple of weeks before Valentine’s Day, Pepper invited her to coffee out of the blue and discreetly tried to pump her for related preferences.

Maria smiled, stirring her cappuccino, knowing full well who’d instigated this. “Lilies. Tell Steve I like lilies.”

“You know Tony wants to have another party,” Pepper said, a hint of warning in her voice. 

Maria sipped her coffee. “Sounds like fun.” Stark no longer annoyed her as much as he used to. “I’m still not playing Spin the Bottle, though.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
